


Storybrooke Roulette

by RosexKnight



Series: Tumblr Drabble Prompts [9]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosexKnight/pseuds/RosexKnight
Summary: joeyblue-eyes of Tumblr Prompted: "I’m scared to walk home in the dark and its really late so i called a random number and got you AU."





	

It had gotten very dark all of the sudden. Somehow, Belle had lost track of the time and now, it was dark. Too dark.

It wasn't as if the streets of Storybrooke were treacherous by any means, but all her nights in the city certainly gave her an aversion to doing anything at night without the use of the buddy system. She was suddenly very much regretting Ruby’s offer to walk home with her (“No I won’t be much longer I only have a few more books to put away.”) and her father’s offer to come pick her up (“No I won’t be much longer I only have a few more shelves to dust.”) In her defense, the library was now spotless, but she seemed to be stuck there.

She turned to the clock. It was 11:32pm. Her father would have gone to bed already, and Ruby had informed her of a date that Belle would hate to interrupt. She was left with two options: brave the streets alone or sleep in the library itself. Well, there was technically a third option if she wanted to break into the flat above the library but the very thought of dealing with the ridicule from Mr. Gold, the flat’s landlord, made her spine tingle. She was not afraid of Mr. Gold, but it was hard to get a read on him when he only gave her nods and noncommittal noises and walked around as if he were trying to burn everyone with his gaze. He might have only been a head taller than her and have a cane but he was the kind of man that demanded attention the moment he appeared. He was intimidating and dangerous and he knew that. The fact that he ran a pawn shop in a town he owned was more symbolic than anything, and Belle wondered if perhaps he meant it to be that way.

At any rate, the second option was her best. She had turned, trying to figure out what books would best serve as pillows, when a fourth option appeared that Belle had almost forgotten about.

Upon being hired, Regina had given her a list of numbers to call in case she needed anything. She'd jotted them all down hastily, meaning to put them in her phone later. She'd never gotten around to that specifically, but the paper was still in her purse, and one of the numbers on that paper was the number to the sheriff’s office. She could call them, have one of them take her home, and then buy them donuts the next day as an apology for being ridiculous and calling about such a trivial thing.

Rifling through her purse, she found the piece of paper slightly crumpled, but otherwise fine. The list of numbers remained there, though Belle groaned as she realized her mistake.

She hadn't labeled any of them.

“Stupid woman…” She numbed to herself as she sunk into the chair behind the circulation desk.

One of the numbers before her had to be the sheriff’s office. Or the cell of David Nolan and Graham Hunter, the Sheriff and Deputy themselves. However, she was fairly certain that mixed in were the numbers of Regina (in case she needed something for the Library since it belonged to the city) and Mr. Gold (in case she decided to rent the flat above the library, since that belonged to him.)

It was the Russian Roulette of phone numbers, and if Belle had any chance of getting home tonight at all, she simply had to pick one. Closing her eyes, she pointed to a number, and dialed.

One ring. Two rings. Okay she wasn't immediately sent to voicemail or a recording. That was a good sign, right? Three rings. Four. Five. She swallowed. Perhaps the station didn't have a recording. Perhaps they were just busy. Six rings. Seven. She should hang up. Right now. She should hang up, find the thickest paperback she could, and hope for the best.

“This better be important, dearie the shop’s been closed for hours and I am very against taking late rent so late.”

She'd pulled the trigger and gotten shot in the head.

“M-Mr. Gold. I’m sorry I was...You’re not the Sheriff’s Office.”

“No, dearie.” His tone was tired, his accent thick. Belle swallowed. “I’m not.”

There was a pause as Belle expected yelling. Some kind of scolding because how dare she call him so damn late? However, none came. She heard some shuffling on the phone, and the distant tapping of a cane. In the corner of her eye, she caught the light of the pawn shop flicker on from the library’s window.

“I didn’t want to walk home alone.” She found herself confessing.

“It’s Storybrooke, Miss French. You don’t have much to fear.”

“I know but…”

“There’s a flat above the library isn’t there?”

The light of the pawn shop flickered off again, and Belle watched from her window as he emerged from the door, bathed in little more than the streetlight.

“I live with father.” She said. “You know I don’t rent the flat.”

“Indeed I do.” He said, then seemed to sigh. He was looking at the library now, and Belle wondered if he could see her. “Well? Are you coming, dearie?”

Belle blinked. “I...what?”

“I’m walking you home, aren’t I?”

“Are you?”

A chuckle “Well, unless you’d rather sleep on a pile of books…”

“L-let me get my coat. I’ll be right out.”

“Take you time, dearie.”

“Mr. Gold?”

He paused mid-step, leaning on his cane as he once again looked to her through the window. Belle smiled. “Thank you.”

She watched him nod, and if she squinted she could see him return her smile, and her heart leapt to her throat. “Anytime.”


End file.
